Wasteland
by S J Smith
Summary: On vacation, Angel sends postcards to Sunnydale.


WASTELAND

S J Smith 

Disclaimer:  Joss never calls, he never writes.  I'm thinking the relationship is over.  And you just know he'd win that lawsuit, so I can't claim 'em as mine.   The song lyrics are from "Nightmare", written by Charlie Murphy and performed by Rumors of the Big Wave.  

Pairings:  Mentions of Faith/Connor, B/S, B/A, A/C.

Rating:  PG

Spoilers:  Possibly for the end of BtVS season 7 and AtS season 4

A.N.:  This is a companion piece to D. M. Evans' "Save Me".  That story is up here as well.     

A.N. 2:  Angel's P.O.V.  

* * *

_In this garden of flesh and bone, _

_I stand in the middle of the tracks._

_Let the loneliness take me to the farthest shore_

_Let the cold wind blow at my back.  _

_The man says, "How can you live here, _

_"Don't you worry about losing your soul?"_

_I say it's such a stone cold groove _

_To be part of something so out of control.  _

* * * * *

I send her postcards.  

It's almost a compulsion.  I want her to see these places, to feel what I feel in them.  To understand what I'm –we're – experiencing.   To know why I'm here, now, exploring with Faith and Connor.  

The first card I mailed was from Knotts Berry Farm, where Faith dragged me onto a roller coaster and both she and Connor laughed when I screamed.  My embarrassment was worth that price even though I'd like to find other ways to make Connor laugh.  I wrote to Buffy about it, like I wrote to her about Faith threatening to stake both of us when we got bored with _Moulin Rouge.  _I sent her cards from the Black Hills Caverns, from that old hotel that reminded all three of us of the Hyperion, from state line crossings.  I told her about seeing _The Two Towers_ in that theatre that smelled like something had died an evil death inside of it, with the sticky floors.  I wrote about us finding a nest of vampires and taking them out.  Faith added a postscript – "Still kicking ash!!" – at the bottom of that one.  I sent Buffy a postcard made from a photo taken of the three of us, Faith in between, laughing so hard she would've fallen except for our grips on her, both Connor and I wearing oversized cowboy hats in front of the Number 10 Saloon in Deadwood.  

Does she even read them, I wonder, just before I drop each card off to be posted.  Does she see them and throw them away, without even looking or are they hanging on the refrigerator, which is where Fred assures me the ones I send to the Hyperion are?  I wouldn't be surprised if it were the former.  At the battle, things came out; things that didn't need to be brought up just before we went off to war; things that needed clear heads and if I could take back the words I said to her about Spike, I would.  She cut me just as deep about Connor and Cordelia, leaving both of us wounded emotionally and still needing to fight together to beat the First.  

We may have won the war but we lost the battle.  Spike took a blow meant for me, the tandem of weaponry and magic too much even for a vampire to survive.  I was his final confessor; heard words that I never wanted to; his love for Buffy; how she'd never moved beyond her feelings for me; that she'd never cared for him the same way she'd cared for me.  Spike gave me his blessings – his blessings! – to love her. Care for her.  Protect her.  If I didn't, he said, he'd come back and kick my ass.

Then he was gone, ashes to the wind and I had to rise and fight again.  After it was all done, I had to tell Buffy Spike was dead.  She slapped me, she hit me, she screamed at me and when she ran, I knew better than to follow.  Willow was the one who talked to me; told me more about Spike that I didn't want to know.  That he'd had a chip inserted that didn't allow him to hurt people.  That he'd alternately harried and helped them.  That without a soul, he'd become, if not a member of Buffy's inner circle, someone that Buffy herself trusted.  He was the first to find out she'd been in heaven rather than hell.  

And after that, Willow's voice faltered and she looked up at me with worried eyes, after that he and Buffy started sleeping together.  Willow hastened to assure me, Buffy had been trying to find anything real to keep her here and when she did, she broke it off with Spike.  She studied her hands when she told me he'd tried to rape her but the next part effectively wiped away my rage in my complete astonishment – that Spike somehow had gotten a soul.  That he'd done it for Buffy.  That Buffy had had Spike's chip removed and that she'd been the one to nurse him back to sanity. 

My mind went blank at the idea of a vampire wanting to get a soul, that Spike would even think to find a way to get one.  He tried to change himself for Buffy and I walked away from her and never even thought about looking for a way that she and I could be together.  

Willow hadn't finished yet.  She went on, her voice soft, her gaze turned away from me, so she wouldn't see the way her words flayed me as she said, "Buffy never said she loved him, but…."  

It seemed the blows would never stop coming that day.  We'd lost Cordelia, too.  The demon was driven from her; the demon that slowly overpowered her will, who changed her from the Cordelia I'd learned to, dare I say it, love, to the being that drove a wedge between my son and me; nearly tearing my family and friends apart.  The being that fought against us at every turn, that stabbed Lilah, that released Angelus, that stole my soul, all harbored in Cordelia's body.  But when Willow's magic banished the demon, Cordelia couldn't face the things she'd done.  

She's like a child now.  The doctors aren't sure she'll ever regain her total memories and say that it's best that she stay in their care.  Fred and Wes found a beautiful place for her and they say she's doing well.  She recognizes us most of the time but only in a superficial way.  Fred said, when I talked to her on the phone the other night, that Cordelia had asked about Xander and Willow but didn't remember me.  Maybe it's for the best.  Maybe the memories she has now are better than those she might've had to carry with her.  And even if I miss her, miss the woman she'd become, I sometimes wonder if she doesn't have the better of the deal.  

Because now I carry around Spike's last words to me and Buffy's words as well; hear Willow's explanations like a loop in my head.  And I'm trying to connect with Connor because he's not everything I have left but sometimes it feels like he's close to it. 

So I write postcards to Buffy.  I tell her about Faith and Connor's burgeoning relationship and how glad I am that they have each other.  I describe where we are, what we've seen, what we've done.  I don't tell her I miss her or that I love her, though I do and even if we never see each other again, I always will.  

She already knows.  

* * * * * 

I will try to put up some kind of fight 

_Against falling asleep before my time comes due. _

_I will call her name through the long empty night,_

_She will not die before she knows my love was true;_

_She will not die before she knows my love was true.  _


End file.
